Sweet Regression
by Laura Fones
Summary: FaithAngel, FaithLindsey: Lindsey offers Faith a way out of incarceration, and a romantic interlude ensues, but the more she fights it, the less able she is to ignore her love for Angel...and his reciprocation of it.


Title: Sweet Regression  
  
Author: Laura Fones  
  
E-mail Address: rb46628@aol.com  
  
Feedback: I love it, I thrive on it, and I answer all of it.  
  
Distribution: Simply ask.  
  
Spoilers: Some of 3rd Season BtVS, Five by Five, Sanctuary, and bits of Blind Date.  
  
Content: Faith/Angel and Faith/Lindsey (I was increasingly indecisive throughout the entire writing process.)  
  
Rating: R  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing in relation to the show Buffy the Vampire Slayer; Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy own all.  
  
Summary: Guinevere's love of a Knight hailed the end of an era in Camelot, Faith's love of an enemy will destroy something just as sacred and irreplaceable--  
  
Author's Note: There will be considerable inconsistencies in relation to Angel season 2 concerning Darla (who was never raised, so is therefore non existent) and Lindsey's hand (he no longer requires the nickname 'Stumpy').  
  
Warning: Since this is my first attempt at anything even resembling a Faith/Lindsey piece and my first Faith/Angel in a good long while, one may be convinced I had dropped acid when I wrote this, but I really didn't, so if this is extremely lacking in substance, please refrain from any flames, death threats or jury duty notices that you feel the need to send me. Thanks.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Prelude – Cell  
  
Everything's always dark. It's like your eyes are always closed even if light shines directly in. I heard somewhere once that a person's perception of a situation stems wholly from life experience. Maybe that's why it's dark, because nothing in my life has ever been light and sugary, it's been nothing but blackness. Or maybe it's because in my walled jail cell, the only light is from outside through iron bars, and I've long since blanketed the windows.  
  
I've been visited occasionally, but it's just done to make sure that I keep on track and don't fall back into my old ways. It's funny how 'on track' feels a hell of a lot like sitting on my ass doing nothing but recounting past sins and chain smoking. I'm not even really addicted; I've been tired of it for a while. Now I just kind of zone out and go on autopilot. Every once in a while I go out to the yard and just watch everything go by. The clouds, the fights, the occasional threats on my life, I've just ceased caring it seems.  
  
I've thought about Wolfram and Hart and what would have happened if I hadn't let my conscience take over and just staked Angel without my incredibly elaborate games. I'd probably be living it up, killing on request, just like the boss and me again. God I miss him, he was the one person in my life who I think had actually loved me--that's the one thing I regret most, I didn't make him proud. He gave me everything I ever wanted and then I was used against him, his only weak point. I kill everyone I love. I'm poison. Everything I touch, everything I love turns into a vile repulsive heap or dies and it's all because of the mistake of knowing me. I guess I should have stopped trying to love a long time ago.  
  
That's why I liked it here at first. No one could touch me and nothing could turn to crap, it's already that way. So I'm free, as free as I'll ever be inside barred windows. Just me, a pack of matches and the darkness, just how I thought I'd like it. Angel said that the darkness would swallow me up, turn me back to what I was. Redemption came through light, not darkness. However, what he forgot to mention was that darkness is what comforts us and keeps us sane. He doesn't like to admit it, but he loves the darkness just as I do, and he needs it, just as I do. I was never into the whole sweetness and light thing; it's nothing but darkness and pain.  
  
How am I supposed to redeem myself of my crimes in some little white room anyway? Should I go around the yard and 'save' these little girls who are murderers and fiends like me?  
  
That's how I started thinking about it, what Wolfram and Hart offered, how Angel said I'd never balance out the cosmic scale and, of course, how useless this jail sentence distributed by the prison addicted state of Sunny California was. What ever happened to capitol punishment?  
  
So that's why I decided it. If I was going to die young (and I always knew I was), I wasn't going to do it in some dark cell.  
  
  
  
Chapter 1 – Telephone Call  
  
  
  
"I want to make a phone call." I told the guard through the window in my cell. I hadn't asked for anything ever since I had gotten here, so this wasn't unreasonable.  
  
"Sure," The guard quickly opened the door and led me to the pad-locked phone booth down the hall. This hall had always depressed me, or frightened me-- it was sometime hard to tell which. A long cement corridor with cells to the right, but the cells looked more like padded rooms for those considered murderously insane than ones set up for hardened criminals.  
  
The guard took an iron key from her large loop and turned the lock open. "You've got ten minutes," She explained then took her obligatory place by the booth, staring a few times down at her watch and occasionally at me.  
  
I nodded and took the phone to my ear and punched in the numbers that were slowly fading from my mind. The phone rang once and twice until a pleasant sounding receptionist picked up.  
  
"Wolfram and Hart, Attorneys at law. How may I direct your call?"  
  
"Yeah," I said politely, "Lindsey McDonald, please." At least I remembered the guy's name, which is more than I can say for most. I hated him, but as Lilah said, he's a damn good lawyer.  
  
"Hello," The answer came after two rings. He had a slight Southern accent I realized, probably sang country too. They all seem to.  
  
"Lindsey," It was more of a statement than a question, but he responded as if it were such.  
  
"Yes it is," His tone was somewhat confused, he obviously wasn't into pleasantries; then again, neither was I. "May I ask whose calling?"  
  
"You could," My voice held hidden humor, but he probably didn't realize it, "But I don't think you'll like the answer."  
  
"Faith," He said in realization, I'm sure there was annoyance to be had as well.  
  
"Good guess."  
  
"Was there a reason you called?" His voice became less professional and more, well, for lack of a better word, pissed. Apparently he held grudges. " My time is very valuable and is generally spent on those who don't bunk with their given targets."  
  
I ignored him. He was first, and foremost an asshole, and second a lawyer, two things that I did not enjoy, "You do work pro-bono for your hired assassins, right?" The guard glanced up, flashing me a warning look, I quickly amended and made a motion pretending I'd meant it as a joke. She smiled.  
  
"However, since you do not work for us, I don't see how you would have interest. Besides, I thought you were following Angel's 12-step redemption program."  
  
"Yeah, I'm sure sitting on my ass in a jail cell is really helping atone for my crimes." There was a long pause as I considered the consequences of my words. "I want another chance."  
  
"We gave you a chance; a vampire, a vampire slayer, it seemed to be a simple case. However--"  
  
I quickly interrupted him. "There was a personal connection with him, he's my--friend."  
  
"Then that would put a bit of a damper on our relationship, wouldn't it." Lindsey responded without missing a beat, so that's why I hate lawyers. There was a long pause, as if he was considering, or intrigued, whichever. "Listen," his resolve had increased, "I'll schedule some time tomorrow and I'll consider your case. That's all I'm going to do for you."  
  
"That's all I'm asking for." I said softly and quietly hung up the phone.  
  
  
  
Chapter 2 – The Obligations of the Contract  
  
  
  
Hours seemed to take days. They might have always been this way, but I'd never had anything to look forward to so I rarely noticed changes in the hourglass. Lindsey had never mentioned a specific time, so I had no choice but to sit alone in my cell, on my bunk, until my legs grew stiff waiting for the knock that seemed it would never come. After a while I started to stretch out on the floor, seeing how far I could bend since it had been forever since my last training session with any real effort. Yeah, I could still easily surpass any human in physical strength and flexibility. That was somewhat comforting.  
  
Finally, after many an hour of waiting, the knock came.  
  
"Your lawyer's here to see you." A male guard about twenty some years of age called in through the door of my cell. Exactly how often do they change the guards at my door?  
  
"Okay," I quickly combed through my hair with my fingertips as I heard a click of the lock and the door swung open.  
  
"Come on," He motioned to me and I found it obvious he was a 'professional'; just out of academy and working his way up. He still thought he could make a difference in the crime and punishment system or something. They're so naive when they start off, but don't worry, they learn.  
  
I followed him out of the cell and took to the left side walking. Those cells still gave me chills; the white walls and the infamous padding made me feel criminally insane instead of just criminal. But if I stayed in here too long, I might just start to feel at home in those walls. That's what scared me the most.  
  
I was led into the 'talking room' (slang in here isn't widely known for it's creativity). It was a step up from speaking through scratched up glass on little telephones like in the commons where Angel visited me. Instead it was a simple room with a table and chairs so that, in the least, the two (or how ever many) people could interact. It was used most of the time only for 'official' meetings.  
  
Lindsey McDonald, lawyer boy and utter professional, sat in the chair opposite me, looking for a moment down at his watch. His briefcase took up the corner of the table in an almost obtrusive manner (how a briefcase can be obtrusive, I'm not quite sure, but it somehow managed). He looked up finally when he heard the door close behind me.  
  
"Faith," He said in greeting, he was obviously going to make this a methodical encounter if nothing else. I briefly wondered if his businesslike attitude was to be attributed to the cameras installed overhead.  
  
"So do I call you lawyer boy or Lindsey, either one can be taken as an insult." I tried to start this off on the right foot, me in control, but he merely raised an eyebrow and passed me a typed sheet of paper.  
  
"I pleaded your case to the senior partners and they agree with me," Lindsey looked at me while I scanned the page with an expression of confusion. He quickly clarified, "This is your first case." I nodded in understanding; "The senior partners feel that you could be an invaluable tool if you can prove yourself worthy."  
  
"Demons?" I looked up at him, he nodded to confirm, "But don't you Wolfram and Hart types work for these kind of things."  
  
He chuckled at me and pointed out the name of the species, "This particular breed have been giving us a bit of trouble lately, getting in the way of some of our more affluent clients, and it's your job to make sure they don't disturb our patrons again. Are you willing to take it?"  
  
I smiled at him and lifted my eyebrows. "Consider them dead."  
  
A pleased smile spread across his features. "Then I believe," He said, sitting back down, "We can do business." He took out a stapled series of papers and placed them in front of me. I scanned the top, picking up little tidbits of how they planned to get me off on all charges.  
  
"Our defense," He said, bringing his hands together, "Is really quite simple. A large majority of the crimes which you are accused of can be attributed to the late Mayor Wilkins--" I visibly flinched, remembering him- - "Is there something wrong?" His tone was unusually sympathetic. So I was wrong, he is capable of some range of human emotion.  
  
"Uh, no," I smiled weakly, "It's nothing."  
  
He eyed me for a moment, trying to gauge my mood and reaction. He should know I'm too well practiced at covering my emotions to let him see anything I didn't want to shine through. "As I was saying," He continued, "A lot aren't directly linked to you and can be easily countered with alibis. The others, however, are trickier--"  
  
"But I confessed," I interrupted, "How is there a way to get around it. It is, after all, in writing."  
  
He did that smirk thing again, saying very blatantly that he knew something I didn't. "I'm afraid that the document you are speaking of doesn't exist on file." He folded his hands with a small smile.  
  
My eyes widened in realization, "You got rid of the evidence." He simply raised his eyebrow in compliance and I saw a small twitch in his lip indicating a pleased grin. "No wonder Angel's on your ass all the time."  
  
He tilted his head a little; no doubt he had little idea of what I meant, so I quickly clarified, "You know, that little fact that you're evil."  
  
He glanced down for a moment, almost in some type of reflection. I thought for a second that his musing might result in the lack of a snappy comeback, however, I was wrong, "Perhaps that's why we found you appealing in the first place."  
  
"Perhaps that's why I left--" I looked down; my voice had been too soft not to bare emotion. I took a deep breath and looked up at him again, fully collected, "We're not here to talk about the firm or your broken morals, we're here to talk about how you can get me off, Lindsey, and then we can talk about how dead these demons are going to get."  
  
"Good girl," He said, passing me a smile that some might have melted at and others would have beaten his face in for. "Those crimes that can be connected to you, however, are not considered as serious as those we have taken care of. Beatings, aggravated assault, resisting arrest, all of these can be dealt with without any real difficulties." He leaned forward a little, "In other words, Faith, I can have you out by Friday."  
  
"And I can have your demons dead by Saturday," I smiled wickedly. Yeah baby, I'm back.  
  
Lindsey held out his hand, "It's been a pleasure doing business with you, miss."  
  
I took his offered hand and shook it. "The pleasure was all mine." The purposely seductive undertow in my voice did more than ruffle a few feathers and he turned to go. It was like being back with the mayor, entering the office where no one could refuse me, no one judged me because they were just like me.  
  
It's good to be back.  
  
  
  
Chapter 3 – Justice, Law and Order  
  
  
  
Lindsey's a better lawyer than I thought.  
  
He had me out by Thursday and I had the demons dead by Friday. The only obstacle was Detective Kate Lockleys's testimony on the confession papers, but Lindsey and the court ripped that little speech to bits, as they could find no evidence of a confession and those cases she claimed I had confessed to were solved and accredited to the late mayor. I'm starting to love these lawyers.  
  
In any case, within a week, I had been set up in an apartment not too far from Wolfram and Hart and had been getting regular assignments. They made Lindsey my portable information guy. I was unclear as to why this was, but Lilah tipped me off that he requested it. He probably wanted to keep a clear eye on me, after all, he was the one who put his 'ass on the line for me', and he wouldn't want the project 'going up in smoke, like last time'. Holland was also watchful of my moves. He's the right hand man for the senior partners, and disappointing them is number one on the 'Most Common Cause of Death List', or so I've been warned.  
  
That's not number one of my concerns though. Number one is definitely Angel. He found out about my little union with Wolfram and Hart and was none too happy with what my career plans were. Lindsey informed me of the recent cases that had been destroyed courtesy of my vampire friend. I told him I still wasn't going to kill Angel, I won't ever kill Angel. He's the only one who can get to me and he knows it. That's why he keeps trying, because he knows he's the only one who can break me down. But I won't let him get that far, not with Wolfram and Hart keeping a thick haze over my whereabouts.  
  
  
  
I sat in Lindsey's office, awaiting my next case. At the moment, he was out in the hall speaking with Lilah. Of course, in terms of Lilah, 'speaking' involves about one minute of conversation and then somewhere near five of verbal warfare. I have come to the conclusion that lawyers are the only ones in the known world who can have 'professional' oral battles without the use of profanity, even if they have to pause to think of phrases that don't involve the word 'bitch' which is so often used to describe Lilah.  
  
Lindsey walked in a few minutes later with the sheer and unadulterated look of spite. "She made fun of your hair again, didn't she?" He glared up at me and pulled a file from his desk drawer. He threw it across the table and into my hands. "Testy aren't we?"  
  
He raised an angry eyebrow and growled, "She's being promoted to junior partner." He sat down and seethed.  
  
"But you're a junior partner, it's not like she can rub anything in your nose." I cocked my head to the side. "You could take her unfair advantage and start sleeping with the senior partners too."  
  
I got a malevolent glower from the comment and he elaborated on his situation. "Lilah is going to work with me on a case for the senior partners. They want us to do research together."  
  
"Harsh." I said and kicked my feet up on the desk. I held up the folder passed to me, "So, is this my next case?"  
  
"Yeah," He verified, "A group of gang members that have potential eye witness accounts of a murder that my client was involved with."  
  
"Of course, 'involved' in this firm generally means 'guilty as sin', right." I smiled in hopes of raising his spirits and started to flip through the pages of information on my targets. Typical gang, no big difficulties but to avoid bullets and kick their ass.  
  
"Well, in any case," He said, beginning to play with a small Egyptian figurine on his desk, "We want the guys dead, no big elaborate procedure, no torture and the like, just dead."  
  
"Got it," I noticed him fiddling around with the figure and pointed. "What's that?"  
  
"Oh," He said looking down and the small statue in his hand, "This is Maat. She was the Egyptian goddess of law, truth, justice, and order."  
  
"Only two of which you honor today--" I said taking the figure in my hand, "Law and order. That's all that matters here." I looked up and he was staring thoughtfully at the statuette in my hand.  
  
"It wasn't always that way--" He mused, "When I was at Hastings, I thought I was going to uphold truth and justice as well." He smiled painfully, "I guess things don't always work out the way you plan."  
  
So, he does have a conscience. Fascinating how lawyers can fool anyone into thinking they're the devil's advocate, but still have somewhat of a moral compass (they may not always follow it, but it's there). "Things never work out right, but you have to roll with the punches I guess." I said and put down the figure, standing up in the process. "So will there be anything else?" Damn these law firm formalities.  
  
"No," He said, looking up at me from his desk seat, "Unless you want to come with me to lunch?"  
  
"Lunch?" I raised an eyebrow and motioned to the clock above the door that indicated the time was well past four o'clock.  
  
"Okay," He said guiltily, "Not lunch, but Lilah's going to be here at five o'clock to 'discuss' our case and I need an excuse to leave before then."  
  
"You could drive me the targets and watch me kill them." I said sarcastically.  
  
"Trust me," he said somberly, "Compared to being alone in a room with Lilah that's something akin to heaven."  
  
"Great," I shrugged. "I'll meet you in the lobby in five." I left and slammed the door behind me (one of my few pleasures are slamming doors--I'm not quite sure why.)  
  
  
  
I looked down at my watch, counting down the seconds of the five minutes I had given. I smiled as, exactly when the mobile hand hit five, he stepped out of the elevator (I find it somewhat interesting how he lacks the ability to be late.)  
  
"On the dot," I informed him as he approached, cocky grin on his face. I rolled my eyes, exasperated, and nodded towards the exit. "Come on lawyer boy, we gotta motor."  
  
"Coming," He said and tossed a wave to the receptionist, before following my lead out the door.  
  
I took an immediate left into the parking garage. "Keys," I said simply, holding out my darkly manicured hand.  
  
"You've got to be kidding," He said protectively, "That's a Porsche, do you have any idea how much those things cost?"  
  
"Less then your salary," I said apathetically, "Plus, I'm twenty, wield a license and I'm a slayer, meaning if you don't give me the keys, I'll be forced to kick your cushy, office-pampered ass." He begrudgingly passed his keys into my waiting hands. "Thanks." I said, twirling the key chains and spotted his car, the metallic silver illuminating with a glow all it's own.  
  
"Hop in." I said after unlocking the door and sliding into the driver's seat.  
  
He sat down unhappily and slammed the door as if it would faze me, leaning his head against the window. I started the car and flicked his forehead, "Hey," he turned to face me, "Just because you're rich, powerful and gorgeous does not give you the right to brood." He looked as if the only word he heard was 'gorgeous' and I could see the beginnings of an overconfident grin, "Angel does that too--" I noticed something, "Did you just twitch?"  
  
"Of course not." Lindsey crossed his arms defensively.  
  
"Oh my god," I smiled, "This guy's really got your knickers in a twist, doesn't he." I backed the car out of the parking space and drove up the ramp.  
  
"Hey," He said as if a distant memory had assaulted him, "You think I'm gorgeous."  
  
"Coming from me and my history," I tilted my head, "It really isn't that much of a compliment."  
  
"I'll take what I can." Lindsey smiled and leaned in close to my ear. "Besides you're not so bad yourself."  
  
"Oooo, smooth evil guy talk," I said and turned to him at a red light. "We're stopping by my place."  
  
"And I always thought that line only worked on Lilah." Lindsey chuckled smugly.  
  
"I'm getting weapons," I clarified and accelerated when the light turned green again. "And if you're a good little lawyer I won't use them on you."  
  
"And to think, I could be in the office with Lilah instead," He said in mock sweetness.  
  
I rolled my eyes and turned on the stereo, drowning out any would-be comments from my compeer. With my driving skills and extreme need for speed, we were at my apartment in five minutes flat.  
  
I turned off the ignition and exited the car, peeking my head back in to ask, "You coming?"  
  
He sighed, as if I had placed just *such* a heavy burden upon him (please make note of my sarcasm), and exited the car, quickly following my steps up the walkway and into the apartment marked 151.  
  
"No place like home, right." I said as I opened the door and saw his eyes bug out at the weapons adorning the walls like a rare art collection.  
  
"I can see why no one feels safe here," He said as he ran his finger on the blunt end of an ornately decorated machete, "I mean, could the fact that you're an assassin be a little more conspicuous?"  
  
I smiled and said, "I'm not an assassin, I'm a classicism appreciator." I slipped down two pieces of weaponry, "Battle axe or dagger?" I held up the two items for his suggestion.  
  
"Dagger," He said pointing to the small, yet threatening knife in my right hand, "Easier to conceal."  
  
"I agree," I slipped blade into the waistband of my pants and set the axe on its side upon a table that stood close by. I was about to say something to Lindsey, but I noticed his attention had fallen onto what I had deemed the 'exercise room' where he was seemingly fascinated by the punching bag. I smirked and followed his lead into the room and leaned in by his ear. "Don't tell me you've never seen one of these before."  
  
He whipped around and looked up, relieved to see it was only me, apparently the weaponry decorating my apartment made him a bit jumpy. "Oh, hi."  
  
"Yes, I believe we've established that." I said moving to the side of the punching bag, smoothing out the invisible wrinkles in the canvas. He watched me with some fascination as I fell into a well-practiced fighting stance.  
  
"I'd back up if I were you." I watched as he immediately obeyed, still his eyes were fixed on me, anticipating my next move. I hate to disappoint. I took a deep breath and summoned enough force to send the bag flying, but not break it. I threw a well-formed Thai kick against the strong burlap and connected, sending the bag swinging on its support in the ceiling.  
  
Lindsey smiled and made a clapping motion. "Impressive." He said, slipping back into his famed 'silver-tongued, evil lawyer' façade. "I pity the man who gets on your bad side." Anyone who didn't have the density of glue could see through his frontage-- but he obviously didn't know that.  
  
Fine, two can play at that game. "Well," I approached him, my voice lowering and my body language turning more seductive. "You won't get on my bad side." I leaned in, "Will you?" He started to respond to my baiting, but I quickly drew away and leaned against the opposite wall. "Don't try your affectations with me Lindsey, they're all transparent."  
  
"Damn," He half chuckled, "I worked for years on them."  
  
I smiled, obviously his work had paid off if he gotten this far on the corporate ladder and still had some remnant of 'inner voice'. I casually reassured him, "After working so long and hard on mine, I can see through other's masks easily."  
  
He looked at me thoughtfully for a moment, clearly trying to see through my own cover. As I said, I'm too good at it. He smiled a little and moved away from the subject. "So, the targets--"  
  
"Oh yeah." I said, pulling my hair behind my ear. "I almost forgot." I felt the hilt of the knife hidden at my side by my dark jacket for reassurance I was ready, then stepped out of the room, motioning Lindsey to follow me.  
  
I pulled out his keys and tossed them to him, quickly stepping out of the apartment and locking the door. "Your turn to drive." I walked out to his car.  
  
He received the keys appreciatively; obviously glad my driving skills would no longer be a life threatening issue. With a less tense movement than those before, he slid the key into the slot and waited for the gentle hum of the engine.  
  
"You *really* love this car don't you," I smiled, taking in his closed eyes and pleased grin as he stopped a moment to listen to the brilliant, yet low key purring of the motor.  
  
"Nothing like the sound of a Porsche being started." He said, making the words lull in his satisfied manner.  
  
"You have the weirdest turn-ons," I raised my eyebrows and added, "And, quite frankly, I'm worried." He only smiled at my comment and put the car into gear, backing out of its outlined space. "You and I both know it's a trophy car."  
  
"Beg pardon?" Lindsey asked, taking his eyes from the road for about a second out of politeness.  
  
I shrugged at the gesture and articulated my meaning, "A trophy car is like a trophy wife," He nodded to show he was listening and had some interest, "You have the beautiful wife partly for your own enjoyment, but mainly to project an image. Your car screams of power and money, and that's what it's meant to project, so you've obviously succeeded." He made a low murmur of 'm-hmm'. "Your clients want power and money, so you've melded everything to their expectations of Wolfram and Hart, they then feel comfortable with you handling their cases." He slowed to a halt in front of a stoplight, momentarily consulting his watch.  
  
"Speaking of clients--" I nodded and he looked up from his oh-so- fascinating timepiece, smiling (you remember, the one that could melt some and infuriate others). "Do you want to be my trophy escort for my dinner with Mason and Yule in about-- three hours?" God, I hate that little smile, just guess the effect it had on me.  
  
Of course, given my melted innards, I had not choice but to, as casually as possible, consent. "Sure," I shrugged, avoiding the view of 'the smile', which was still beaming on his face as he received an answer.  
  
"Great," He noticed the changing of the light and quickly accelerated, leaving me a moment to pray for my life and another to look ahead for any cars that might be in the direct vicinity of his apparent need for speed. "And you're on me for my speeding habits." I raised an eyebrow accusingly.  
  
"I'm not 'on you'." He smiled and I could just hear the 'yet' in his voice, but the word was suppressed quite commendably.  
  
"So, why do you need a trophy date for Mason and Yule, they're already major clients at the firm." I asked, casually changing the subject.  
  
"Their new case requires-- special attention," He said, slipping into a more professional monotone. "Mason's son had a bit of an accident. There's an arrest warrant out for him."  
  
I smiled a little and chuckled, "Hiring you should be the legal equivalent of signing a confession. I swear--" I trailed off without real cause and he turned to me.  
  
"God, you are such a hypocrite." He shook his head disapprovingly.  
  
"What?" I scrunched my eyebrows, just a little surprised.  
  
"You spout a bunch of disparaging annotations about our firm," He said and then turned to me, stating softly: "And yet, here we are, driving to your hired kill."  
  
He probably didn't mean for his little testimonial to be thought provoking, but I was silent for a moment and then said quietly (and awkwardly), "I guess I just have nowhere else to go." Thoughts of the mayor and Buffy--and Angel assaulted me suddenly, making me feel that same pain that broke me the first time.  
  
Luckily, though, he was obviously too polite to do the standard and thoughtless 'what's wrong' inquiry. He knew I wouldn't answer it anyway, so he quickly changed the subject (but not without a long and worried look to me.)  
  
"Our clients need an assassin on the case should certain needs arise." He said, returning to the all-business façade I normally would have slapped him for. I appreciated it this time.  
  
"Witnesses?" I asked, I too fell gracefully into commerce mode; keeping the focus on something I could easily yawn through and not deal with on an emotional level.  
  
"A few scattered accounts perhaps," He said, making a quick left turn without breaking his concentration, "Still, they can be detrimental to Mr. Mason's case."  
  
My thoughts turned for a moment, thinking how ludicrous it would be to destroy a life just because they have a skewed account of something the Wolfram and Hart types want to keep under wraps and are probably good enough to defend against anyway. I sighed heavily.  
  
"Something wrong?" Lindsey touched my arm gently. I looked up.  
  
"I'm just thinking how bad it must get if you betrayed this firm." I gave a pained smile. "Just be disloyal to them once and you won't walk out alive. It must be stressful knowing that anything you do could wind up being your last--" I stopped short when I saw the somber look on Lindsey's face. A realization came to me. "You know, don't you?" He pulled over quickly and put on the parking brake.  
  
He sighed, "An assassin I got off," He started, appearing a bit nervous, and a bit remorseful. "She was assigned to some--some kids, and I--" He trailed for a moment while I wondered at the sincerity his voice contained. "I was supposed to defend her after their murder, but--"  
  
"But instead you went to Angel." I finished for him and looked into his eyes.  
  
"Yeah," He smiled at my intuition and touched the side of my face, his attraction suddenly apparent. "Life's a bitch isn't it?"  
  
"It is--" I noticed him leaning in a little, "I think we both know that."  
  
"Yeah," He cupped my face with his fingertips and stroked a small tendril of hair on the side of my face. My hand went to the back of his head, pulling his lips onto mine. He responded immediately, placing me closer to him.  
  
I wasn't quite sure what was going on, but two things were immediately apparent. One was that he was an amazing kisser and two, I, being a perpetual masochist, suddenly pushed him away, saying, "Targets, dinner, remember?" He made sounds of disappointment and nodded, again starting the car and driving back on the road. Apparently this guy was too much of a gentleman than to push, or perhaps he just knew me well enough that he realized that pushing wasn't necessary.  
  
  
  
Chapter 4 – Lindsey and Faith, Gang-Bang  
  
  
  
"We're here." Lindsey pulled his car into a small space about a block from the gang's given location.  
  
"Great," I said unenthusiastically, my eyes dwelling a moment on his well curved and all too kissable lips. I touched the hilt of the dagger in my waistband and my eyes found his again. "Bye." I smiled and delivered a quick peck to his mouth, opening the car door.  
  
"I'll be back in fifteen minutes with a limo," He smiled, "I'll meet you there."  
  
I gave him a coy look and remarked, "The Porsche wasn't enough of an upgrade for your clients."  
  
"Maybe," He commented vaguely. I chuckled softly and was about to leave, but he pulled me back a moment to deliver a long, deep kiss that left me slightly dazed, which, of course, he knew. "Have fun."  
  
I was too breathless to respond coherently, so I only simpered a little and exited the car. I waved as Lindsey drove off in a blaze of burning rubber and scattered asphalt pieces, leaving me to pursue my soon to be dead targets.  
  
I ran noiselessly past the block and to the side of the alley I knew they would be occupying. I made note of two things as I overheard the voices inside the alley. One being that they were an English speaking gang (which helped me a hell of a lot, as translating street Spanish was not a favorite activity of mine.) Also, I noticed they were admiring their knives, which meant they didn't have guns, which meant it would be easier to take them down than I had originally thought. Goody for me then.  
  
Judging by these guys' 'conversation' (which is to say topics such as 'and this bitch was like--') I got the impression that a little innocent sex kitten play was the best approach. I readjusted my top, making my cleavage slightly more prominent, and sauntered into the alley.  
  
"Do you boys know where I can find a hotel," I leaned against the wall and batted my eyelashes. "I'm just so lost in this big city without any place to stay--" I ran my palm against my body suggestively, approaching what I could only assume was the leader of the gang, "Nobody I know--" I put on a mask of alluring distress. "And just *nothing* to do--"  
  
The leader smirked a little, seemingly intrigued, "Well, I think we can help you little lady." He motioned to his minions at his sides, only three, making four in total.  
  
"I knew you would," I said in a low and inviting manner, running my fingers along the top hemline of my shirt, making his eyes drop to my almost exposed breasts. It is a pity; under other circumstances this guy would be attractive.  
  
"Well," He said, licking his lips, "How can we be of service?"  
  
I arched my eyebrow, knowing they had fallen into my trap accordingly. "I'll let you know," I smiled, removing the dagger from my pants and throwing a bone crunching kick to his head. One down. The rest of the gang scattered like flock of sheep that had mislaid their Shepard, at a loss of what to do.  
  
One pulled out a reasonable sized switch knife and tried to attack me. I couldn't help but chuckle at his sloppy and capricious moves. I quickly blocked him and kneed him in the groin, dispatching him quickly with a deep incise to the gut.  
  
The other two cowered in a corner, staring at me with wide eyes. "Please," One begged softly, "Don't--"  
  
There was a tug at my emotions as I realized how helpless they really were. I shook it off as best I could and laughed, "I thought you were tough. Come on," I beckoned to them, "You're giving me nothing to work with."  
  
There seemed to be a moment of thought for both and they nodded to each other, charging at me less than a second later. I easily blocked their punches, backhanding one and breaking the wrist of the other. The first fell back, giving me a moment to slit the throat of the other. He fell with a sickening smack against the pavement.  
  
I gulped back the repulsion that struck me as I saw the blood pool on already crimson stained concrete. I turned away and focused my attention to the last gang member who was begging for his life.  
  
I inhaled deeply, kneeling down next to him, "Shh--" I said, calming him a bit. He was only seventeen and his brown eyes still remained strangely innocent. I bit back a soft moan of grief for him and whispered gently to him, "It's okay," I sniffed a little, "Just close your eyes." He did so in such a trusting manner I couldn't help but touch the side of his face soothingly. I gathered all my resolve and thrust my dagger into his abdomen, making his eyes open suddenly. His gaze fell to me, strangely unbelieving, and he gurgled out something I couldn't quite understand.  
  
He started to softly sob from the pain for a moment and then sucked in his last labored breath, leaving me to fall back against the wall next to his dead body and cry gently. I whimpered a bit as I pulled the knife from the boy's belly and shut his eyelids so that I didn't have to bare the pure look in them any longer. The boy probably got mixed up in this because, in places like this, you're either in a gang or you're a target. Yeah, I know what that's like.  
  
I looked a moment at the bloodied blade in my hand and wiped it off against the boy's sleeve, whispering a pathetic apology into his lifeless ear. I could hardly bare to hold the vile weapon in my hand without the uncontrollable need to vomit. So many memories--I realized I was breaking down, just like I did in Angel's arms.  
  
"I can't do that again! I can't!" I screamed into the empty alley and started to sob uncontrollably, "I can't--not again--" I closed my arms around myself and shivered as though I were cold. My breathing was ragged and I was so caught up in the guilt that was enclosing around my mind that I didn't notice the limo pull up and a worried Lindsey run from the car and gather me in his arms.  
  
I quickly, though, regained my senses and stopped crying, seating myself in the limo's backseat. Lindsey was quickly at my side, holding me closely in a protective manner, as if I were glass, and maybe I was--  
  
"Faith," He said, patting my hair and stroking my cheek, "Are you hurt? Did something happen?" I smiled at his display of genuine concern and shook my head.  
  
"Just a little upset," I said softly, "A little guilty--"  
  
He smiled into my hair as he kissed my head, "I understand."  
  
I nodded, "I know you do." Nuzzling in against his chest, I closed my eyes for a moment.  
  
"Mason and Yule canceled." Lindsey informed me softly, "I can take you home if that's what you want."  
  
I shook my head a little, "Can we just drive around for little while?"  
  
I could hear the empathetic smile in his voice, "Sure." He stroked my cheek delicately, "Whatever you want." He put a finger under my chin a tilted my head up a bit, "Please tell me what's wrong."  
  
I took in a weak breath and put on a pained smile, "I guess I just don't have the stomach for this job." I hated myself for being this feeble, and I hated myself for trusting Lindsey this much, but I felt like he was the only thing I could hold onto right now. I was doing it again, spinning out of control, as if Angel's ideals had hindered my control. I was breaking, it felt like I was being torn, and Lindsey was the only one holding me together. I hate feeling this.  
  
"I'll get someone else to take the Mason case," He said, trying to comfort me, "We can take a few weeks off--"  
  
I looked up at him, a little confused, "We?"  
  
He smiled slightly, "Only if you want me with you." This was going extremely fast, even for me. Of course, my relationships rarely factored in the 'sticking around' aspect.  
  
"I do," I answered honestly.  
  
His smile broadened and he lifted me onto his lap, taking my face in his hands. He looked up at me thoughtfully and whispered, "God you're beautiful." The genuineness of his voice and motions amazed me a bit. I inhaled deeply as he pressed his lips against my own. My hands held his head in place as his found my waist, pulling me closer onto him.  
  
Every place he touched seemed to tingle under his skilled fingertips. My face, my lips, my waist, all were ablaze with sensations caused by his caress. "Lindsey," I sighed, breaking away from his mouth and tender touches.  
  
"Am I going too fast," He asked breathlessly, sitting up a little more attempting to give me space. Ever the gentleman, Lindsey's first thoughts were that I was uncomfortable with our little 'situation'. What he didn't realize, though, was that I wanted this just as much as he did, if not more. This game we'd been playing for the past few weeks had built up intense attraction between us and fast was exactly how I wanted it. But I guess he wasn't used to it.  
  
"You're going just fine," I reassured him, caressing his cheek softly. "It's just--" I motioned to the clear glass separating the driver's seat from full view of us.  
  
"Oh," He said, chuckling at himself a bit, "The partition." He smiled and flicked the switch on the limo's control panel, which was situated on the ceiling. I took this opportunity to remove myself from his lap and straighten out my clothing a bit (it had gotten a little disheveled from the fight and impromptu osculation session with Lindsey.)  
  
I looked out the window a moment, seeing tall redwoods towering over us. I turned to Lindsey, confused, "Where are we?"  
  
He smiled like the proud lawyer that he was, "A little appreciated part of California, just outside of LA." He pointed toward the row of giant (and quite beautiful) mansions scattered between the trees. "Mulholland."  
  
"Gorgeous." I said looking back at him.  
  
"Yes, you are." His smile broadened as he saw me turn speechless. I hate when he becomes so urbane and complimentary.  
  
An idea caught my fancy and I looked up at Lindsey playfully, "Ever done it in the back of a limo?"  
  
He smiled a bit and moved his mouth to my ear, whispering, "Yes."  
  
"And I always thought you were sexually repressed," I said humorously, stroking his cheek with my fingertips.  
  
"No, just a gentleman," He said, taking down my hand and pressing a kiss to my palm. "Besides," He smiled, "It really wasn't worth it. Leather chaffs."  
  
"I'd imagine it--" I was suddenly cut off by the sound of Lindsey's cell phone.  
  
He looked down at the caller ID with contempt. "It's Lilah. She's probably wondering about the meeting I didn't show up for."  
  
"So let it ring." I said grabbing the phone from his hands and dropping it on the other leather seat, "No reason to ruin a perfectly good evening." He reluctantly let the call go and settled back onto his seat. "What is it with you and Lilah anyway. You're like the water and oil of lawyer-ism."  
  
"Actually, if you add soap those things will mix." He answered, completely evading the question, which made me somewhat suspicious.  
  
"Well, I'll be sure to avoid any soap based products around you guys then," I eyed him hesitantly, "What? Did you guys date or something?"  
  
"Yes." He said uncomfortably, shifting a bit in his seat. The answer was so ludicrous that I couldn't help myself; I burst out laughing.  
  
"You--" I snickered, "And Lilah--a couple? Poor you."  
  
"Trust me," He said painfully (or reminiscently, it's often hard to tell with him), "That relationship would have convinced many that demons did indeed walk the earth--in tailored Italian dress suits--"  
  
"How long ago," I tried to sound empathetic, but laughter was still bubbling under my voice.  
  
"Two years." He said contemptuously, "Heinous shrew that she was--" He paused for a moment and then turned to me, his features softening somewhat. "How about you?"  
  
"Doomed relationships?" I asked, suddenly turning somber; he nodded. My thoughts flew to a number of nameless faces of men I'd 'gotten to know'. Then my mind turned--to Angel. That face and voice assaulted my memory with such vivid detail that I could almost feel his cool, protective arms embracing me in the rain, when I broke for him-- again. "None worth mentioning." I tried to smile, but then I remembered that cold, vindictive look in Angel's eyes when he said he was ready for my game. I could only shudder to think of how he would look at me now.  
  
"None?" Lindsey questioned, obviously picking up on my moment of introspection, "I have a hard time believing that."  
  
"Well, relationships weren't generally part of the equation," I said, once again reminding myself of the anonymous 'someones' that had glided in and out of my body and memory. "But I've had enough unrequited love affairs to paper a wall."  
  
"I didn't mean to--" He started.  
  
"I want to go home," I sighed, suddenly exhausted.  
  
He touched my arm and said softly, "I'm sorry if I did any--"  
  
"It's not you," I stopped him suddenly, "Trust me, it's not you--" No, of course not--it's me, it's always me. "I'm just tired from--everything."  
  
"Okay."  
  
  
  
Chapter 5 – Why Do You Keep Coming Back for Me, Angel?  
  
  
  
The ride back was in silence for the most part. He held onto my hand as if it were some means of comforting me--as if he thought I needed comforting. When we got to my apartment, he (like the southern gentlemen he was probably raised to be) walked me to my door.  
  
I took out my keys and turned to him. "Do you want to come in?" I realized I was on autopilot, and this was how it ended. They come in, we screw and there's no turning back. Something, though, told me that he wouldn't 'play' by those rules.  
  
"Not tonight," He said smiling, "Later--" He knelt down and kissed my forehead. "Get rest."  
  
"If you insist." I said softly and opened the door, quickly exchanging 'goodnights' with him and retreating to the darkness inside my apartment.  
  
  
  
I didn't understand why I woke up with the need to see Lindsey; it was against my very character to need anybody-- but, somehow, there I was, in the middle of the Wolfram and Hart lobby, running to the elevators to see *him*.  
  
The moment I reached Lindsey's floor I could feel that something was wrong. I faintly heard the words 'vampire on the premises' whiz to my ear from someone I couldn't see. Running to Lindsey's office and finding the doors closed, I pressed my ear up to the wood to listen to what was going on inside. I could distinctly make out Lindsey's voice, as well as Holland's, but I couldn't understand exactly what they were saying, though I had a feeling it was about me.  
  
Just then I noticed Lilah walking down the hall, and quickly signaled to her. "What going on with Lindsey and Holland."  
  
"Oh," She said offhandedly, "Just a sweep."  
  
"Mind readers?" She nodded in compliance. "Then why are they talking if it was just a sweep?"  
  
She shrugged, "I guess those little girls picked up on something they didn't like." I raised an eyebrow. "But on the bright side," she smiled, "They didn't shoot him yet."  
  
"Shoot him!" I said, suddenly less at ease then when I had run up here, frantic.  
  
"Ahh, don't worry," Lilah patted my shoulder, "Your little lover is safe. Holland would never order the kill for him."  
  
"This is all about me then, isn't it." I said, watching Lilah tilt her head in a most condescending manner, and then walk away. I really don't like her.  
  
Then, I heard the door open to Lindsey's office and watched a very fatherly Holland walk out. Luckily, a very much alive Lindsey followed him as well.  
  
"I trust we won't have pursue any means of voiding this relationship." Holland said, folding his arms as he exited the office.  
  
"I assure you it won't be an issue, sir." Lindsey confirmed and leaned against his office door, keeping it open.  
  
"That's good to hear." Holland smiled and then noticed me, "Faith, good to see you again." He held out his hand to shake and I took it.  
  
"Always a pleasure, Holland." I said respectfully and looked to the side at Lindsey with a questioning expression.  
  
"Well," Holland said, letting go of my hand and moving slightly away, "I'll leave you two alone. I'm sure you have some sort of case to look over."  
  
"Bye," I said, verbally ushering him as he walked away. I turned back to Lindsey, still curious as to what exactly had gone on. "So, what was that about?" I asked as we both entered the office, closing the door behind us.  
  
"I'm willing to bet that you already know." He said, ever so intuitively.  
  
"And you'd bet right, but what I meant," I said, slipping into his office chair, "Was the vampire on the premises."  
  
Lindsey arched his eyebrow and inquired, "What do you mean?"  
  
"I just heard--" I stopped realizing once again that I was being too prophetic for my own good. Then all of a sudden I felt that ever-familiar tingle. "Angel--"  
  
"What?" Lindsey touched my arm, "Are you all right?" I nodded, but I couldn't help the panic that seemed to shoot through my veins with the erratic pumping of my heart. Angel was going to be here, I could feel it. He'd find me, and this time he probably wouldn't give a second thought to snapping my neck. I was evil; I'd had too many chances. And maybe on some level, I wanted it.  
  
"Faith," Lindsey's voice sobered me a bit and I looked up. "It's okay, there's no vampire, no Angel." I wanted to argue with him, I knew it would come and then he'd find me. He was coming here. Just then there was a beep of the speakerphone. Lindsey sighed and pressed the button. "Lindsey McDonald's office."  
  
"There's a vampire on the premises, Mr. McDonald." The receptionists voice came through the speaker clearly.  
  
Lindsey thanked her and hung up the phone, turning to me questioningly, "How did you--" A crash interrupted his inquiry as we both saw that it was Angel who had kicked open the door. I grabbed hold of Lindsey's hand out of instinct while he fumed. "Would it honestly kill you to use the knob every once in a while?"  
  
"What can I say," Angel said with well-practiced smoothness, "It would just kill the dramatic effect." Just then he noticed my hand's position in Lindsey's. "And what's this?" He said coldly.  
  
"Oh god, Angel." I tore my hand from Lindsey's, earning a strange look from him. "I--" My eyes darted around the room, looking anywhere but at either of them. "God, I can't--" I stood up and tried to run towards the door but was caught by Angel. His touch seemed to sear my shoulders as his tight grip threatened my circulation.  
  
"What, Faith," He said as he heard me moan, "Got tired of the guilt and decided to come crying back to the powerful law firm like a whimpering dog, huh?"  
  
Tears stung my eyes as I looked up at him painfully. "Yes," I choked out softly.  
  
"So it was all an act?" He asked a little less harshly, "Just a passing phase so I wouldn't hand you over to Buffy?"  
  
I started to sob at his words, my throat clenching with the effort to speak. "I could never act for you, Angel!" I tried to stifle each coming sob. "I asked you to kill me, but you wouldn't!" His hands left my shoulders, though I could still feel the throbbing beneath my skin. I looked up at him with nothing but pain and need in my eyes. "So here's your chance, Angel." I said, crying between my words. "Kill me now!" He didn't move, but surveyed me carefully, while Lindsey stood frozen and amazed. "Come on Angel, I'm not worth saving! Just do it!"  
  
His words were soft, "I never could." He caught me as I collapsed from the power of my own sobs. He held me tightly against him as I bawled against his shoulder.  
  
"Why do you keep doing this," I cried, "Why do you keep coming back for me?"  
  
I heard him sigh and he was silent for a moment, apparently considering what to say. "I guess I love it when I see you cry." I could hear the smile in his voice, but I also could hear the sincerity beneath it.  
  
"Oh God--" I heard Lindsey say as he came to complete realization of the situation. "I can't believe I--" He scowled and ran out the door.  
  
"Oh God, Lindsey!" I yelled after him and tried to push away from Angel, but he wouldn't let me go. I could hear from the inside of the office that Lindsey was about to alert security and that they would be heading for the room we were occupying. I dried my tears and used all of my strength to push Angel away from me, running outside to follow him.  
  
He was dialing a number into the speakerphone at his secretary's desk. "Don't do this, Lindsey." I beseeched in a low, mournful tone.  
  
He set down the phone for a moment and looked to me. "You can't kill him." He said softly, "I understand that." He paused for a moment, wetting his lips. "Don't worry, you won't have to."  
  
"Why are you doing this?" I asked desperately, "To hurt me, to punish me?"  
  
"This isn't about you--"  
  
"I beg to differ," I cut in. "This is all about me--" I lowered my tone a little, making it more somber. "It's always about me--"  
  
"Do you love him?"  
  
"What?" His question was so blunt that it shocked me for a moment, keeping me speechless.  
  
"Do you love him?" His eyes were soft, pleading me to counteract the answer he'd already formed in his mind.  
  
"I did." I said honestly.  
  
"Do you still?" He asked in a most disturbing, quiet monotone, "Is that why you couldn't kill him?"  
  
"Yes--"  
  
He nodded, taking that bit of information in, and then he touched my hand softly. "Do you love me?"  
  
I stood for a moment shocked, my mouth agape, desiring to form words that wouldn't come. Finally I came out of my momentary trance, suddenly angry. "That's too unfair a question, I mean, honestly, do you love me?"  
  
I meant this to be a reasonable point, but he looked straight into my eyes, more earnest than I had ever seen him be. "With every fiber of my being, I do."  
  
Before I could form a babble of nonsensical words, all scolding and reasoning, Angel ran to me from Lindsey's open office. "Faith, I'm sorry-- I--"  
  
Lindsey straightened up a bit, apparently challenged and mentally falling into a defensive stance. "Vampire." He said, venom dripping from his usually soothing, melodic voice.  
  
"Lindsey," He smiled condescendingly, "Always good to see old friends." I could see the battle about to begin and quickly stepped between them.  
  
"Okay boys, we're done here." I said, pushing back on both of them as they stalked towards each other.  
  
"He's not leaving this building alive." Lindsey hissed, glaring up at Angel, who looked down at him with practiced poise.  
  
"Want to argue that point with a Slayer, Lindsey?" I said, pushing him back against one wall, while Angel smiled smugly, as if he'd won. I glowered at his assumption. "And you," I said pointing a finger directly at him. "What right have you to barge in here without some sort of grounds or cause?"  
  
His eyes grew softer and he whispered, "I wanted to find you."  
  
I stood for a moment, speechless and still pointing, though I could hear from behind me as Lindsey started to reach for the phone. "Put it down Lindsey." My voice held timid authority, but he did as I said. I looked back up at Angel. "How could you?" I asked, my tone strangely quiet, "I-- I've known you for years and suddenly I'm slammed into a jail cell and you recover feelings for me, was that how it worked?" I looked back for a moment, my eyes focusing on Lindsey. His eyes, his skin, his lips, all were new to me and without betrayal-- but could they get to me like Angel's always had? I knew the unwavering answer. I turned back to Angel, my eyes the only things I couldn't cloud from emotions. "I can't do this Angel, not again, not for you."  
  
He touched my face and tilted my chin up. "Your eyes tell me that isn't true."  
  
He leaned down to kiss me, but my voice stopped him. "Leave now Angel." My eyes finally contained my resolve, though I knew if he didn't leave soon, all of that steadfastness would shatter, just as he'd shattered everything else. "You're going to die if you don't go." I told him and he let me go, smoothing my hair back with his fingertips.  
  
He started to walk away, but turned to look back. Though his statement was vague, I knew it was directed at me. "I'll be back. You can be sure of that."  
  
I let out a soft whimper as I slid up against the opposite wall. Lindsey was immediately at my side. "Faith." He whispered.  
  
I simply turned to him and murmured. "He knows--he'll find me."  
  
Lindsey smiled consolingly, "He doesn't know, he can't find you."  
  
I knew it was meant in comfort, but I also knew that he had no idea what Angel and I-- "He's always known--" I smiled and chuckled a bit, as if I had come to some great realization that had taken forever to dawn on me-- and it had. "He will always know--" Lindsey looked at me in confusion. "Because of this--" I touched his shirt breast. "Because of us--Wolfram and Hart--" I touched the side of Lindsey's face, "He'll always have a key-- he'll always follow it, me, you, this--" My eyes flitted around the room and I knew--everything. Like a life force, this knowledge coursed through me, and I knew all of Angel. All I could presume was that this was what I was supposed to feel, no training, just knowledge--like my watcher had always said.  
  
Lindsey scrunched his eyebrows, looking at me as if I was insane, which was on some level true. "Meeting up with him seems to take a lot out of you." I didn't bother trying to fight his gentle arms lifting me as if I were meek, instead taking the time to study him. The deep blue and silver of his eyes glinted with naïveté; he didn't know that the most horrible things that went bump in the night didn't usually hire lawyers and he was too young to have yet been jaded with apathy. God, I wanted to have those eyes again. His all too charming face held the young promise and ambition that I would never hold, and for all I knew, I was dead.  
  
"Lindsey." I whispered as I found myself in a chair in his office.  
  
"Yes," He answered, pacing the floor, obviously thinking over the events of the past few minutes. He stopped for a moment and turned his attention to me.  
  
"It wasn't for you." I said simply.  
  
He nodded, he understood. "I know." I wasn't sure why he smiled, but perhaps the absurdity of the whole situation had finally hit him. I could imagine: slayer in love with a vampire, vampire in love with the slayer, lawyer in love with the slayer who's in love with the vampire. God, we resembled a bad Shakespearian comedy.  
  
"I know."  
  
"Yeah, you seem to know a lot recently--" He trailed off; I already knew what he was talking about.  
  
"Slayer sense?" I offered.  
  
"Perhaps--" He came closer to me, studying my eyes. "Or more--"  
  
I pressed my lips together, spreading moisture. "I've always had it." I admitted. "Especially with Angel--" I shifted uncomfortably and tried to explain. "It's like a flash--or a whisper--or a feeling. My first watcher taught me how to use it--to know."  
  
He touched the side of my cheek trailing up to my temple, apparently fascinated. "I thought I'd lost it when I was put in jail, you know, blocked it out." I said, allowing him to touch me. "But lately--" I looked into his eyes grievously, "It's back." I scanned his face when he had taken his hand from my cheek.  
  
"Nothing in your file suggested this type of power--"  
  
"I don't tell everyone everything Lindsey," I cut him off, "Not you, not even Angel." He nodded understandingly and I took his face in my hands, kissing his lips softly, and though he moved to respond, I kept him in place. "I have to go--" I whispered against his mouth, standing up and moving towards the door.  
  
"To him," Lindsey's intonation stopped me, "You're going to him."  
  
I turned around, looking at him, and shrugged helplessly, my voice revealing and soft. "I don't know." I looked distant and glazed over, detaching myself for merely a moment, and then looked up again to meet those lingering azure eyes. "Forgive me." My emotions betrayed me again and a single tear streamed down my now pallid cheek.  
  
He stared on, and then nodded dejectedly. I understood and walked softly out the door, wiping the tear from my cheek and leaving the droplet of moisture on the doorknob as I left.  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 6 – The Pain Two Lovers Can Inflict on One Another  
  
  
  
After about twenty minutes on unnaturally clear LA roads, I found the old ruined hotel that had beckoned to me since I had left the office and I easily kicked in the aging doors. I sniffed the air, noting the scent of mildew and lemon antibacterial; they were obviously still in the process of fixing up the place. Pushing the broken doors closed, I noticed that it looked as if the lobby was empty, but I could feel that it wasn't.  
  
"Angel?" I said quietly, turning around. "I know you're here Angel." I stepped down from the entrance stairs, moving to the center of the lobby, observing the crimson scheme of the entire hotel ground floor. I heard a sound behind me and whipped around, seeing nothing.  
  
"Faith?" I spun, watching Angel approach from the staircase.  
  
It was as if seeing him sobered me from my trace. I hated this, I hated that he had so much power over me and I hated that above all, he knew it.  
  
"What are you doing here?" He seemed shocked, as if he didn't know why I'd come, but he always knew, always reveled in it.  
  
"Don't act so surprised to see me Angel," I said this without real spite, feigned perhaps, but he was aware of the difference, "I'm your little whore, remember. Hurt me, I come back, love me and I'm back all the faster." He didn't answer to this, he just eyed me with a gentle understanding. "I wish I could hate you."  
  
"You don't." He said, making the words lilt with truth.  
  
"You're right." I said softly, quiet sweetness coming back to my tone. "I don't. I never could." I touched the side of his face; the smooth, cold skin warming under my caress. Though still preoccupied, I adored the sensation of triumph. He was finally mine; the one I'd wanted for so long was at my fingertips.  
  
He smiled at this contact and moved his hands to my waist, pulling me into him as he knelt down to kiss me. His lips were soft, yielding, never as demanding as he might have been. We were so similar he'd said once, our darkness overpowering at times and our light hard to find but always cherished. Why was it then, that in the arms of my love, my equal, the one I'd craved for so long, my thoughts were still detached and wandering; meandering to my ever-present guilt, that which I could never let go. The kisses were performed with mastery and the touches produced every intense sensation I could have fantasized, but then why was I still drifting from his arms and skin and lips when I should have been lost in sentience and caress. Why did I suddenly want the blameless attraction?  
  
"Lindsey--" The small, gentle whisper made the arms and the passion fall away while my eyes opened with newfound resolve.  
  
Angel's eyes were the only things now that held any emotion, betrayal. "What?" He questioned, trying to deny any of his vampiric senses. "What did you say?"  
  
I suddenly wasn't scared of his discovery, the guiltlessness of it. "Lindsey." I answered without the familiar tinge of tears in my voice. "I said Lindsey." Where there was no guilt, no pain, never in his arms. I could touch him without feeling any of it.  
  
Angel nodded, begrudgingly accepting my statement. He looked up at me for console, but I could offer none. "I love you Angel." I said without any vow in my tone, "But it's tainted, it always has been."  
  
"Because of Buffy?" He asked, desperate for some excuse, though his face still remained a majestic marble mask.  
  
"No," I shook my head numbly, "Because of me." I let my words sink into his stoic exterior for a moment then looked into his dark, sullen eyes for some emotion or response. Finding none, I turned. "I should go."  
  
I felt a light touch on my shoulder and Angel whispered, "I'll find you again Faith--"  
  
"I know." I said softly, "You always do."  
  
"Why him?" Angel asked softly.  
  
I sighed and smiled a little, "His innocence--" I paused pensively, trying to speak coherently, "He's not you, Angel--he's not me. He doesn't know what it's like--to kill, to know--I need that again. I need something that will make it all stop."  
  
I turned around and saw his face, the marble mask cracked and understanding sadness was exposed underneath. "I love you." He said tenderly, "But--" A small, poignant yet heartening smile crossed his face, "Do what you have to."  
  
I nodded and smiled in return. "Thank you." I held his face and laid a soft kiss on his cheek, gazing into the ageless and forever compassionate eyes, the ones that understood me completely. "Good bye." I said, before slowly walking out of the hotel for the first and what I could have only wished would be last time.  
  
My car started as faithfully as ever and I left the small parking lot with a long, almost evocative glance at the hotel's single lit window, Angel's shadow the only thing making his presence known. I smiled gratefully as I watched him pace by the window, looking as imposing as ever he had been. I loved him then.  
  
But still I left, driving through the smog shaded LA streets that 'would- be' starlets flocked to with golden imaginings of illustriousness dancing in their naïve little heads. In the daytime this city shown with hundreds and thousands flaunting their 'beauty' in hopes of being discovered, putting on pretensions with the unchanging desire for a talent agent to walk by and make their dream come true. But at night it was different. At night, LA was a shimmering gem in the sullen hours of darkness. Gone were the amateurs in this little game of notoriety, at night, it was just the pros. These were the hours of cocktail dresses and premieres, mingling and mixing, fame and reputation, this was when the city lighted up and even the seedy streets next to boulevards cased dozens of 'exclusive' parties for prominent unknowns and fully acknowledged stars. With my connections I could have easily been a part of it, rubbed my effortlessly won recognition in the nose of the vacuous, stardom-seeking girls who randomly freckled the avenues, but I would never be a part of something that sordid, after all, even I have limits.  
  
I pulled my car into park, shutting off the engine with a quick, sharp twist of the key. I got out and locked the doors with equal pace, reviewing my surroundings with a painfully repentant smile. My work, my sin, mine to be dealt with. I pulled the dirty yellow police tape from the hinges of the alley. The police didn't know how to deal with this; it was too dark and perverse for them to comprehend. The Slayer, the great protector, sworn to battle evil and save humanity, butchering it instead because she can't deal with veracity or her own clandestine darkness. I doubt I ever even worked for the system, I just distorted it.  
  
Passing the threshold, an unearthly chill came over my body. The haze covering the moon seemed to part solely for me and a clear beam of light made the crimson stain on the concrete shimmer with the malevolence required of the crime that created it, the evil that I contained. The bodies were gone, zipped up in dark plastic bags for a formal investigation, but their ghosts floated about and loomed over me, crafting a dark halo around the alley and me. They danced around me, beckoning, begging, and pleading for me to make it right.  
  
Maybe they weren't fearful apparitions, but instead my own voice, my little Angel, telling me to atone, to right the wrongs. But this was the price of my freedom, attempting to block out all conscience, all pain, and leaving the crying, the accepting, to when I'm huddled in a corner gulping down bitter tears, trying to deny what I am--infected. Infected with the same imposture so innate to every native of LA.  
  
But in Angel's--Lindsey's arms I forgot all of that pain for a moment, like a drug he took it away. A moment of inner peace and loving rapture, that's all I wanted. I stood, I left, like an addict to it's craving, I was drawn.  
  
Before I knew it, as if in some daze, I'd reached it. The sharp, modern decorum of the apartment's exterior only made it more appropriate that a lawyer should reside therein. I entered the building, knowing by memory the code and strode mutely to the second floor. The dark crimson of the hall met me with strangely inviting dimness, guiding me to one specific door, Lindsey's. Taking in a deep, hesitant breath I knocked on the darkly painted heartwood.  
  
I heard for a moment a gentle stirring behind the door, then I could hear the latch being undone and a slightly disheveled Lindsey answered the door, "Can I help--" He stopped speaking, surprised for a moment. "Faith?"  
  
"In the flesh." I said, a little too timidly for my liking.  
  
"I didn't expect to see you--," He said looking down a little, "Ever again, really--"  
  
"What? You thought I'd just up and leave? I'm not that kind--" I thought a moment, "Well, I sort of am that kind, but I wouldn't do that to you."  
  
"You know, seeing you--" He smiled a little, "I don't know whether to make you apologize or kiss you senseless."  
  
I returned his little smile, though mine was a bit guilty. "I'm open to either."  
  
"What happened after you left the office?" He asked candidly. "Did you go to him?"  
  
I was somewhat surprised at his bluntness, even if it did have a gentle undertow, but I answered honestly. "I did."  
  
"What happened?" I could tell he was bracing himself for something he didn't want to hear, so I decided to be vague.  
  
"We saw, we bantered, we kissed--" I looked him in the eye. "And I said your name." I paused, trying to avoid the look of triumph on his all too unknowing face. "You know, I always thought it was him, it always was *him*, only him-- But for him, it was always her--"  
  
"And for me it was you." He interrupted me, "It was *always* you."  
  
"And I hoped I could come around into your way of thinking." I smirked, knowing that it wasn't true and chuckling a little as I thought back to my previous encounter, "And to think, Angel gave me his blessing."  
  
"He does love you." There was yielding acceptance in his tone, but he added, just as evocatively, "Though not as much as I think I can." God, years of thinking no one would ever take a second thought to caring about me and now I've gotten vows from two men in less than two hours, the thought is almost painful. But even more than the implausibility of it was the irony which was presented. Here we have the dark Slayer, the black sheep, the worthless wretch traveling the world using only her intense magnetism and her innate supernatural strength to kill as means of living, and now she might have a chance at a happy ending. But I'm a realist; I don't expect a white picket fence and a blissful, unerring relationship. I just want a relief, a less than agonizing and brief rapport, something I could curl up next to at night and be safe from the dreams that held every specter I'd ever known and every malicious deed I'd ever committed. This was Lindsey, a safety, keeping me from the rapid fire of emotions inherent in true affecting attachments.  
  
"Can I come in?" I asked simply, avoiding the feeling of guilt that seemed to permanently set itself in the substructure of my stomach. He didn't answer, but held the door open wider, allowing me to pass by him and into the contemporary styling of his penthouse. It was just like him, darkly sharp and controlled, but not without the sense of sentiment and passion that formed his whole frame of being and thinking. This was Lindsey, his darkness and light, the innocence and corruption that he would let no one see, but that I knew.  
  
He, in the process of my scrutiny, had found himself a place on the swart leather sofa in his living room, propping himself up on a comfortable pillow. "You like it?" He asked, noticing my gaze.  
  
"I do." I said, nodding. I paused a moment, and finally brought myself to ask the question that had haunted me since the crime scene. "Do you think they'll kill me?"  
  
"What?" He inquired, confused.  
  
"Do you think they'll kill you?" I asked, turning soft eyes to him.  
  
"Wolfram and Hart?" I nodded. "Why on earth would you think they'd do that?"  
  
I inhaled softly, thinking quietly, "Because I'm going to quit."  
  
Lindsey tilted his head, scrunching his eyebrows, "Why would you want to do that?" He stood up and moved towards me. "I've got you on sabbatical, you won't have to assume another assignment for a while. It's taken care of."  
  
I shook my head, a little troubled at the fact he didn't understand. "Not just for a little while, not ever again." I looked into his eyes intensely, painfully. "Do you think this is just a phase? Are you that naïve?" I let out a leaden breath, beginning again with the heavy realization of his ignorance, "I can't do it again. I thought I could-- I thought I could go back to how I was-- and it hurts, god, it hurts so much!" I shook my head, "You can't know what it's like to watch the life drain from someone's eyes, to see that it was by your hand. It's agonizing!" Tears welled in my eyes, remembering everything I'd seen, everything that weakened me to this point. "To wake up, everyday, and know that you're beyond saving, to know that divinity is lost on you, and to know, utterly, to know that god doesn't-- couldn't ever want you back!" My voice softened, so that it would have been inaudible if he weren't so close. "It's death--and it is every minute as painful." A single tear rolled down my face and Lindsey sobered a bit.  
  
"You're right." He said softly, "I don't know. And I can't know if you don't tell me." He went to touch my shoulder, though for a moment I resisted the contact. "I'm not Angel." He said, defeated.  
  
"You think I want Angel?" I said unbelieving, "I *left* Angel and came to you."  
  
"And why'd you do it Faith?" He asked accusingly, "To distant yourself from the past? To forget?"  
  
I sighed and tilted my head a little, "In a way, maybe."  
  
He shook his head, "So I'm just a way out, a fresh life for you to play with, your new little boy toy?"  
  
"No, I would never--"  
  
"It's okay Faith," He interrupted me, "Honestly, I would have done the same and, you know, I'm fine with it." He shrugged, "I'm the rebound guy, I can deal with that."  
  
"You're not the rebound guy." I shook my head, "You're the drug, the release, the alluring innocence that even you can't see." You're my nothingness--  
  
He chuckled, "You think I'm innocent? Little girl, you have no idea--"  
  
"I have every idea," I broke in firmly, "You haven't seen--you don't know those things that go bump in the night, those monsters that I was made to kill. You may be waging the war, but I'm fighting it. *I'm* the one fighting the battle that you're too oblivious to even notice."  
  
"Vampires?" He smiled as if I were an ingénue, that condescending tone not lost on me, "I've seen far worse in my time than the undead."  
  
"I've seen things they don't even have a name for," I said, matching his hauteur to the beat, "You see, you sit up there in your glass and chrome tower finding only the ambiguous of evil, the ones that actually need the law. I've seen it pure. I've seen the kind that could crush every rule and law and fabric of reality itself. I've seen evil that could kill and scar and rape and ravage everything it even gazed on, and still I kept fighting. Now tell me Lindsey, can you say the same?"  
  
"I can't, that's true," He said, a bit of yielding in his tone, "But I know what it's like. That hard, cold feeling of loss. I've seen what power it has. And I know what it's like to see death, to hear that pulse stop, and I've wished and vowed and prayed on everything I know to listen to just one more beat of that loving heart that I am eternally forbidden to hear."  
  
His pain radiated the information that he didn't give, the history that could make all the pieces of the puzzle in my head come together. It was intoxicating control. He continued to speak about knowing my pain, while an ocean of time stretched out inside of him, revealing what he wanted to forget. The poverty, the sickness, the death, all of these things I had felt and experienced. He may have touched death, but I fell in love with it. And nothing can be more emetic than the sobering morning when you realize that the real monster, the thing that should be lurking in the shadows away from day and the light it brings, is you.  
  
I came back into reality, immediately pressing my finger against his lips to stop his vehement oration. "I know." I whispered softly when he tried to protest. "I know everything now." I took my finger from his mouth and touched his lips with my own in all faintness.  
  
"God I love you." He whispered against my mouth with unexpected honesty. I suppressed a whimper of grief and bit down the words 'please don't say that', clenching my eyelids tightly shut in hopes of blocking out the forever ill-fated words. I deepened the kiss, each concentrated touch burning away a little more guilt. My drug. With catlike grace that was innate by my birthright, I led him easily to his bedroom and quietly closed the door, still entangled.  
  
  
  
Chapter 7 – Leaving Safety  
  
  
  
I woke up, nearly shaken from my sleep by some unearthly call. Lindsey's arms were still around me in a gentle embrace, making me feel cosseted and safe, and all his face held was serene adoration. I felt as if I betrayed him just by being there, in his arms, without sharing his curious devotion. Slipping easily from his embrace and out from under the covers, I located my clothing and clad myself again in the comfortably binding attire. I knew that under no other circumstances would I have left the false, but loving arms, but something compelled me to leave--to hunt.  
  
The term itself was unfamiliar to me. I had never *hunted*, or referred to it as such, but something told me that that was exactly what it was: the hunt. I left the building with such swift silence, that I was amazed to find that it struck me as entirely natural.  
  
I walked along the streets lit only by flickering streetlights and predawn moonshine. The very few passersby were mysterious fledgling luminaries and street-hardened paramours who barely glanced up to see me in the hazy darkness of LA life. Each one had a story, a purpose that was on the forefront of their easily breeched minds, each one with a secret and a façade that cloaked their reality and others' perceptions of such. LA was alive because of the malcontents and their hidden pain, their all-consuming disenchantment and regret. But I wasn't meant to notice them, or to help them. A higher power than suffering called to me, forcing me away from the sorrow and shame.  
  
The call drew me into an alley, into what a small group of vampires had made their feeding ground. The moment that the five saw me, what I took to be the leader stood up, dropping the already dead victim to the ground.  
  
"Hello little girl," He said, with only the skill of decades to call upon. "Did you lose your way?" I stood at the center of the alley, chillingly silent. The leader took measured, sauntering steps closer to me and I glanced to my side noting the heavy wood box to my right. "Don't be afraid, my little moppet." He continued to come closer and I readied myself for the moment he'd be near enough. "We won't hurt you."  
  
When he was less than a foot away from me I looked into his fierce yellow eyes and responded softly, "You're right." Before he could react, I quickly splintered the wooden box with my elbow and brought one of the fragments down and into his chest, watching his ridged features crumble to mystic dust at my feet.  
  
Taking the stake-like splinter into my hand adroitly, I wordlessly beckoned the other four vampires who were at the end of the alley. They attacked all at once; attempting to blow me down with the sheer force of undisciplined kicks and punches. Each was blocked, each was countered, and nothing could touch me. There was no longer the deep seeded remorse at the back of my mind, now it was just instinct. Everything was aligning in me, everything awakening. Darkness no longer existed; nothing was to be guilty of. I was now the intense force my birth had afforded me, and I was again what I was meant to be, a true power of good. It seemed to cleanse me of the ubiquitous pang of knowing that I was infected, impure, because I no longer had need to know. I no longer was. Not now, not ever again. I was a Slayer now, more than I ever had been. The return of my clairvoyant powers made sense. I had become.  
  
Maybe it was my way of redemption, the return of my own soul, a gypsy curse miscalled. Perhaps this was how I was to atone for my crimes, to give in to the primal call that drew me from the bed of my 'enemy', away from my evil. I didn't know.  
  
The vampires had turned to dust under the expert use of my stake, but the victims were beyond saving, so I went on my merry way, certain that yellow police tape would decorate the alley in the morning. My somewhat unconscious 'merry' way led me to nest after nest of vampires who I dusted without batting an eyelid, finally leading me to what almost certainly beckoned to me in the first place: the Hyperion. Angel.  
  
It was a draw that I wished to God I could fight, but just as it had shaken me from sleep, it took me there. I was without my own will as I gazed up into the sole lighted window, the lamp still burning bright and he still pacing like an animated statue of Jove, looking left and right from under hooded eyes. The attraction that had been so fierce for so excruciatingly long had not diminished as I wished it would, but instead strengthened as my steely gaze still focused on that window. Once I knew he sensed me, he mentally perked and stopped his incessant pace, but then shook it off, convincing himself he was being driven to insanity by his longing, before he could glance out the window and see my sadly desiring eyes looking up from the parking lot.  
  
But there was a strange permeating intensity hovering over the layer of our beings, an odd balance of purpose and need, an inconceivable feeling of rightness and intention that stemmed beyond our own emotional satisfaction or our existence itself. Almost as if we were drawn now, here, this way for some reason, some ultimate goal. I shook my head at the thought and drew myself away, convincing the battling concepts in my head that I was romanticizing something that resembled a crush gone horribly wrong-- no that would imply that at least one of us had some semblance of control or grounding in the matter of this attraction, which was, quite obviously, not true. A final gaze to the window and then I forced myself from the Hyperion and into the darkness.  
  
When I did reach the door of Lindsey's apartment, I could feel him moving around inside, awake and wondering where I had gone and already forming his own conclusion to the query. I also knew that if I did step in, a confrontation would be inevitable and Lindsey's obstinacy would almost certainly result in a conflict. I really wished that I had cared.  
  
The door was unlocked and I silently passed over the threshold, watching Lindsey pace for a moment. I could feel something strange in the air though, an odd upset infecting the atmosphere. Lindsey turned to meet my eyes, the very nearly sickening affection ever present in them.  
  
"Where were you?" His tone was almost innocent and his eyes luminous in the soft overhead light, looking at me with the possibility of betrayal.  
  
"Out," I said, casually leaving it vague, "You know, just a walk to clear my head."  
  
"Oh," His voice softer than his meaning. The small disturbance in the room still gnawed at my nerves, begging me to acknowledge its importance.  
  
"So, how long have you been up?" I asked, casually broaching the subject.  
  
"A couple of hours--"He shrugged, then saying somewhat more pointedly, "Long walk apparently."  
  
"Well, I guess I had a lot to do," I quickly corrected myself, "Think about- -" I had the gentle stinging feeling in my mind that so often preceded a premonition, though I tried my best to numb it into knowledge. "So, uh, you've been just walking back and forth during those few hours?"  
  
"No, I--did some things--cases." His eyes showed the tinge of dishonestly he had yet to learn to hide, and the mild stinging stopped, coming instead a flash of light as his untutored nature allowed me narrowly into his recent memories:  
  
"The end of days Lindsey--she's the key."  
  
"Sir--Holland, is it really necessary to--"  
  
"Lindsey, your attachment to her will hinder it, I've discussed it with the Senior Partners and hers is a major role. She's in no way expendable, however, as most certainly you are."  
  
Lindsey must have seen my eyes change, as he suddenly faltered when he glanced up at me again. He knew. He must have known, but he still attempted to slip through my knowledge in a manner of well-practiced poise.  
  
"So, uh, what's on your mind?" He said, resting his arm against the ceramic counter, "What did you need to think about?"  
  
"Things." I answered quickly, "Personal stuff."  
  
He cast an anxious stare down against the carpeted floor, seemingly trying to decide whether to play on or to acknowledge the serious matter that cleaned the air of easiness and relaxed feeling. He looked up at me and decided. "You saw him."  
  
"From a distance." I nodded and wet my lips, mentally urging him on.  
  
"And you know?"  
  
"Know what?" I feigned ignorance as I calculated him, quietly judging his movements; I wanted to hear it from him. There seemed a strange, guilty lassitude about his downcast eyes, his adoration and call of duty warring against each other on the sanguinary battlefields of his psyche.  
  
"You know--" He said, silently challenging me with melancholy looks.  
  
I took in a deep breath, mentally testing my resolve, pressing the pins and needles of his sad eyes against the hardened barrier of protection. My fingers unconsciously trailed along the end of mahogany table beside the door, tapping my fingernails against the dark sheen of varnish.  
  
"Planning on breaking the silence?" He whispered just loud enough for me to hear, a nervous tinge to his soft voice.  
  
"I like the quiet--" I said, glancing down at my hand and pulling it from the brunette surface of the table. "What key?" I asked, my voice surprisingly stable.  
  
"Come again?" He feigned ignorance and I fought the urge to press him to the wall in exasperation. I loathed this game.  
  
My voice was an unbelievably serene, yet somewhat disturbing monotone. "Tell me what role I play in the End of Days, Lindsey. Our lives will all be much smoother and the better for it."  
  
It was more the icy calm of my tone, I suspect, that affected him than my words could have ever done, and he feigned no more. "The End of Days is the apocalypse."  
  
"Another one of those?" I murmured low enough that he remained oblivious.  
  
He went on. "The dependent variable, whether or not it will happen is all up to the fate of Angel. To what side he is on." He stopped.  
  
"So what do I have to do with it?"  
  
"You're going to make that decision." He said simply, "You're the determining factor."  
  
"I can save the world--" I trailed off.  
  
"Or you can end it."  
  
I suddenly felt limp and inwardly swayed, steadying myself against my now strangely solid resolution. "I see." I nodded to myself and looked on him, dazed but unchanging. "Thank you." My voice lowered by it's own accord and became distant, emotionless. "Good-bye Lindsey." I turned with the slow evenness of a sloth and touched the metal of the doorknob.  
  
"Faith, don't--" His voice trailed to the sharply attuned ears and I ignored it, leaving out of obligation and out of sympathy.  
  
  
  
Chapter 8 – Stay with Me  
  
  
  
In the dangerous predawn light of LA's murk, I found my way to the Hyperion, knowing every step as if each had been walked one hundred times without illumination or sight. The previously lighted window now was covered by full curtains with telling signs of age and faded ends that suggested an eternity of use, but he had not yet left.  
  
I made no attempt to hide my presence as I broke in the rotted wood door for the second time in the last twenty-four hours, the concept of irony apparent only by the wry smile on the pale morning skin of my face. I heard the faint hopeful shuffling of the undead an instant after the fact, and attempted to ready myself for confrontation of any kind.  
  
It took Angel less than a moment to reach the stairway, where he stayed, unbelieving. My breath caught and suddenly my pulse hummed in my ears and my body numbed and stung with the malaise inherent in lovers of withheld affection. In that time, my entire purpose was possessed instead with all consuming rueful ache.  
  
He spoke first, not moving from his spot. "I can smell him on you-- everywhere." His voice was soft, the words said in delicate sustained notes, "But it's old-- tainted." He paused. "Because you didn't care."  
  
"Does that surprise you?" I whispered the question, still trying to find my voice.  
  
He shook his head and matched my tone. "No."  
  
"Angel--" My breath was so unsteady that I could have drowned in the unseen thickness of longing. The gray dawn's light made my vision faultless and my yearning undeniably acute. "Angel--" I repeated, near desperate tears cutting into the corners of my eyes and distressing my speech. He understood and rushed gracefully to me, my body collapsing against his as despondent saline droplets stained my cheeks, stinging the tiny pores therein.  
  
"Faith." He smoothed my hair comfortingly as he held me against him.  
  
"God Angel--" My voice marred and cracking under its burden, "I'm so sorry." He nodded, understanding the slurred words of lamenting. "Stay with me--"  
  
Cradling my head with unforced gentleness, he touched his mouth to mine. I swallowed and responded, poignant dewdrops still streaming under my closed lids. In the passionate embrace, I could taste the salt tears seeping into our kiss. Angel stopped for a moment to press his mouth to my eyelids and wipe away the teardrops as though they were delicate holy streams of blood from which my cheeks could not be blemished.  
  
He carried me up, showing in his manner that as human as I was admitted to be, he was--in his advanced years--more mortal and affective than I could have conceived of in my own lifetime. We internally blasphemed the Cherubim and the sentry archangels that had kept us from the paradise of each other's arms and of each other's skin.  
  
I should have known that consequences always befall those who enter the sacred groves of Eden.  
  
Stay with me--  
  
Darkness met me in my half-awakened state; it's presence in the room almost intrusive, and absolutely dominating. I peered with squinted eyes as they adjusted to the dim hue of the area whose only source of illumination was the thin, steady beam of early afternoon sunlight cutting like a golden thread through the obtrusive darkness. Vaguely, I made out Angel's sitting form and met his darkened, studying eyes with the contentment of afterglow, my skin still glossy from near-desiccated perspiration. It was odd, though, that his manner did not change to the shamefaced look of having been caught in the appallingly endearing act of watching a lover sleep, but instead the brown eyes stood steadfast in scrutiny.  
  
"Angel?" I whispered, a little disturbed by the unwavering watch.  
  
He made no attempt to answer, his silence unnerving me and dissipating my satisfied mood. When moments had passed without speech, I wrapped the smooth linen cloth of the sheets around my exposed form and approached his fully clothed body, gently touching his shoulder with hopes of response. I kissed his cheek, but he only eyed me with the unsettling, calculating look that had covered his picturesque features since my waking.  
  
Still trying to withhold my anxiety as to the reason of his quiescence, I knelt down in front of him and kissed the hand that rested inactively on the chair's arm, rubbing my cheek against it delicately. "What's wrong Angel?" A quick insecurity passed in my voice as I muttered. "Are you regretful?"  
  
A soft, rumbling chuckle came from deep within his chest and his hand found the side of my face. "Oh darling, anything but that." I was pleased for a moment to break his silence of concentration, but then the coldness of how his hand rested was realized against the softness of my countenance and my look of pleasure immediately faltered, quickly flashing my suspicion. It was truly unlucky for him to have noticed.  
  
He smirked, something that once would have been a pleasant reward, but now displayed a silent warning. The careless hand fell away and a soft finger took its place, playing lightly with the hair at the side of my face with false delicacy. His voice mirrored my earlier tone with near mocking underlying each syllable, "Say what you're thinking Faith, you're always so stoic."  
  
It was a whisper of a breath, a softness betraying the erratic palpitations of my heartbeat: "Angelus."  
  
"Good girl," He said approvingly, lifting me with inhuman strength onto his lap and clasping me there, helpless. Keeping a firm and unyielding grasp on my sheet covered body, he trailed his face along my right shoulder, taking in a sharp, unnaturally long breath. "Always smelled like moist rose petals- -" He mused, obviously recalling one of Angel's memories. "He was right."  
  
"Angelus." My voice was not threatening, but desperate, as if I lacked control.  
  
"No," He scolded, "A slayer should never beg." He forced my face to his direction, "You should never beg, Faith." As harsh as his grasp was, an outsider's guess would have been that his hold matched the same softness his features suggested, never upsetting his aberrant calm. "Ironic, don't you think Faith." He lulled the syllables of my name with a cruel pleasure, knowing the way Angel had murmured them, "That a vampire's true happiness would come in the form of two slayers." He took in another unusually long breath. "I mean, isn't that peculiar?"  
  
"Not to me--"  
  
"No--not to you." He let a small smile cross his face in genuine amusement. "I gotta tell you, Faith, you were a better deal than good ol' Buff." His voice lowered and his mouth moved to be right beside my ear. "You have it in you."  
  
"No!" I struggled and got partial freedom, allowing me one strong backhand to his skull. He quickly restrained me again.  
  
"No, you're a reformed little girl now, aren't you." He snarled, "All that goodness just pulsing through your veins, Lindsey screwed that evil full out of your little being, didn't he?" His demeanor finally turned back to a neutral calm, and I was left shuddering and whimpering from the force, all the minute hairs on my body tingling in the readiness of fear. He smiled again and moved his mouth to touch the paleness of my throat, "Let's see if I can't drain that newfound virtue out of you." I heard him change and through reflex elbowed him with a satisfying crunch and rolled to the floor (my sheet toga miraculously intact).  
  
The morphed face of a monster held me motionless for a moment and then with realization, I backed away until I could feel the thin thread of sunlight warm my arm. Blinded by anger, most likely, he charged me, throwing me against the covered window with audible force.  
  
"Please, Angel, don't--" I said, a rueful teardrop making a shimmering line on my cheek.  
  
He chuckled and shook his head, "Come on, little girl, it's all in fun." His fangs marked my neck in an instant, and my left hand tore away the curtain in the same time, allowing the bright afternoon sun to consume what was, less than a sunrise ago, my lover.  
  
A moment of immobility made me comprehend the act I had just committed. Instead of breath, my throat sounded with the clicking of my tongue against the dry roof my mouth, small gasping noises following. Becoming lightheaded, not from lack of oxygen, but from despair, I fell against the wall, unable to cry.  
  
"Oh god," I whispered, dry heaves following recognition. My inability to vomit brought on the sobbing and the burning inside my skull. The pain jolted from my head to my lungs and I internally wished it could kill me.  
  
The unseen ghost of what once was offered me two options. How easy would it be to point that jagged edge of glass into my abdomen and end the fight, the one I, alone, would surely lose? How difficult would it be for me to exist bravely?  
  
I swallowed and stood, invoking all of my strength and tenacity, and approached the dust-sheltered telephone beside the naked bed. With every ounce of perseverance I had ever gathered, I took the receiver in hand and punched in the always-familiar numbers.  
  
After several rings, the answer came: "Hello?"  
  
I took in a deep breath, "Hi Buffy."  
  
  
  
THE END 


End file.
